Rise from transitory things T'wards heav'n thy native place. Rivers to the ocean run, Nor stay in all their course: Cease, ye pilgrims, cease to mourn, All our sorrows left below, And earth exchang'd for heav'n. CONFESSION. O LORD, my God, in mercy turn, O leave me, leave me not to die! O pleasures past, what are ye now ي For pleasure I have given my soul; Yet Jesus, Jesus! there I'll cling, H. K. WHITE. THE COMING OF THE LORD. A VOICE from the desert comes awful and shrill, The Lord is advancing-prepare ye the way; The word of Jehovah he comes to fulfil, And o'er the dark world pour the splendour of day. Bring down the proud mountain, tho' tow'ring to heav'n. And be the low valley exalted on high; The rough path and crooked be made smooth and ev'n, For, Sion! your King, your redeemer is nigh. The beams of salvation his progress illume, The lone dreary wilderness sings of her God; The rose and the myrtle shall suddenly bloom, And the olive of peace spread its branches abroad. DRUMMOND. THE BIRTH OF CHRIST. BRIGHTEST and best of the sons of the morning, Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid! Star of the east the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant redeemer is laid! Cold on his cradle the dew-drops are shining, Maker, and Monarch, and Saviour of all! Say shall we yield him, in costly devotion, Vainly we offer each ample oblation; Vainly with gold would his favour secure ; Richer by far is the heart's adoration, Dearer to God are the pray'rs of the poor! Brightest and best of the sons of the morning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid! HEBER. ADDRESS TO THE SUN. NATURE is lavish of her loveliness, Until that loveliness, if not denied, Becomes a theme, which, whoso would express, Art scarcely notic'd :-many turn aside With cold indiff'rence from the scene, and yet 'Tis one which he who feels-for hours may not forget! Have I not found it such, when, at the close Of a long day in close confinement spent, I've wander'd forth-and seen thy disk repose And silent ardour, till I could have deem'd, The clouds which compass'd thee, by thee besprent With glory, as thy brightness through them gleam'd, Beautiful in themselves-with beautiful visions teem'd. And I have look'd at them-until the story true: How he beheld their entrance into glory- Of that bright city-shining like the sun, Whose glitt'ring streets appear'd of golden hue, And in them many men-their conflicts done, Were walking, robed-with palms-and crowned every one! For can imagination upward soar To thee, and to thy daily path on high, Thy home is in the beautiful blue sky! From whence thou lookest on this world of ours, As but one satellite thy beams supply [powers With light and gladness-thy exhaustless Call forth in other worlds sweet Spring's returning flowers. Yes-as in this, in other worlds the same, The Seasons do thee homage-each in turn ; Spring, with a smile, exults to hear thy name; Then summer woos thy bright but brief sojourn To bless her bowr's; while deeper ardours burn On Autumn's glowing cheek when thou art And even Winter half forgoes her stern [nigh; And frigid aspect, as thy bright'ning eye Falls on her features pale, nor can thy pow'r deny. Yet-spite of all:-though thou appear'st to be Upon its rocky marge; or to the sound Or softer harmonies which float around From deep and verdant vales, or mountains forestcrown'd: And though on earth thou hast beheld the sway Of Time, which alters all things; and may'st look On pyramids as piles of yesterday, [nook Which were not in thy youth :-although no Of earth, perchance, retain the form it took When first thou didst behold it :-even thou Must know, in turn, thy strength and glory strook ; Must lose the radiant crown that decks thy brow, Day's regal sceptre yield, and to a Mightier bow! For thou thyself art but a gaude of Time, And as sublime will be your destin'd end. One final consummation shall ye meet: |